They live in the lonely lands where mighty rivers twist in long reaches between the barren bluffs. Where the prairies stretch out in billowy plains of waving grass, girt only by the blue horizon, across whose endless breadth he can steer his course for days and weeks and see neither man to speak to nor hill to break the level.

I am not a Journalist. I am the 5th generation of my family to work on the farm. This is a photograph of my Grandfather Glenn Barr. He is standing on a cattle tub helping us work cattle, when he was around 90 years old. He was not there for a paycheck or because we needed his help. He was there because that is where he belonged.